When She Wears My Color
by Ally-Kamiya
Summary: Tommy has some rather interesting thoughts during first period. Tommy POV. **Chapter 2 Up as of 5/31 - Kim's POV**
1. Tommy POV

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When She Wears My Color

By: Ally-Kamiya

Author's Notes: It's amazing the plots that can develop when you're bored after an English test.

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Disclaimer: I do not own Power Rangers, or the characters, I'm a fan who makes her own little world of it. Go me and others like me.

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Rating: PG-13, just to be safe.

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Summary: Tommy has some interesting thoughts during first period…Tommy POV.  
**Timeline: **Most likely, during the Ninja saga.

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I finished and turned in my test a good five minutes ago. Thank the Power for Billy's great cramming skills, but they do leave you with nothing to do. So, first I pretended I could concentrate on other things, took out our current literature book and started to scan the pages. You may ask me why I say scan and not read.

My answer will confuse a lot of you. It's here, plain and simple.

Kimberly Anne Hart…My Beautiful, my goddess, and much more. Her perfect caramel brown hair is resting gently on her shoulders, and I can see her gnawing away at her lower lip while she tries to answer the next question. Now, as she crosses her legs, that's enough to make my head spin even more.

But strangely enough, that's not what does it for me. Want to know what does?

She's wearing my color.

Today, it's a tight, stretched out white shirt underneath her pink tank top that I know from experience barely goes below her ribs. Then, it's the flirty but not slutty white corduroy skirt on her hips. Her sneakers are pink with white laces, too.

Maybe it's a side affect from being a Ranger, a kick Zordon didn't want us to know about. But every time she wears my color, I think I lose my hold on sanity until she doesn't anymore. And god, does she love to wear white often.

A part of me wonders if she knows what she's doing to me. However, I don't wear pink very often (try once every millennia), so I don't know if she's ever experienced it. She's always wearing it, though. And there's always that little smile on her face when she does. I don't know, maybe she's just pledging that she's mine in some secret sort of way that only we understand.

And boy, does she know she's mine…

Oh god, she just shifted which leg is crossed. She has to know I'm staring at her, her hand is toying with the hem of the white skirt now. White. Mine. My Beautiful.

Now she just gave me that coy little smirk. She knows. I can tell she does…That flirt, that tramp (said lovingly), that showoff, that know-it-all, that woman, that lover, that girl, that teammate, that Beautiful, that sexy smooth woman…I could go on, but you don't want me to. Trust me on that one.

I can't help but continue to stare at her over the edge of my book, my eyes are drawn to her like a moth is to flame. She's flirting now, her pencil tapping against the white of her t-shirt. She goes so far as to slip it into the sleeve a bit, the eraser tip rubbing her shoulder, just far enough so that I can see the white of her bra strap.

White. Always white. My woman is driving me crazy in more ways than one, and by now, I'm damn sure she knows it.

Now her foot is tapping against her other one. The white shoelaces are bouncing up and down, and her skirt opens up a bit more at the side, just so I can see it. Just so I can see her tanned thigh that makes me want to…I really shouldn't have these thoughts in class.

She glances at me once more, and she can tell that she'd won before she had even started, I didn't even return her physical flirtations today. With a wide grin, she stands, goes up to Mrs. Applebee, and puts the test down on the table. 

I watch the way her body and her clothes move as she heads back towards her seat. She winks and me, and I curse her name lovingly.

She'd been finished with her test long before me. She'd known I'd been watching her the whole damn time, and she played along.

I hate it when she does that.

I love it when she does that.

I hate it when she drives me to the brink of insanity.

But boy, do I love it when she wears my color. When she wears white.


	2. Kim POV

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When She Wears My Color: Chapter 2

By: Ally-Kamiya

Author's Notes: Well, several people asked for it, so here you get it – Kim's POV. Thanks to everyone that reviewed!

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Rating: PG-13

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Disclaimer: Dun own 'em, dun own 'em, dun own 'em. Tada.

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Summary: Kim's POV during Tommy's interesting thoughts.

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Please Note: I do appreciate and love all reviews, but, if you are going to say something negative, do not just say that you did not like it, please. Give me a reason, and maybe it will be corrected another time. Comments such as that are what help make a better writer.

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Possible sequel in mind. What do you think?

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I finish my test earlier than everyone in the class (except for Billy, of course). I'm the type of person that double-checks their work, but whenever they change it, they wind up having the erased answer correct. Rocky told me plain and simple how to avoid it – to not even attempt to check my work. Aisha wondered if it was some form of self-contradictory thing. Adam shook his head in amusement, listening to the different ideas that went back and forth while I was recovering from my violent outburst on a punching bag after I found out. Billy told me that I should glance over the answers, but unless I am positive it's wrong, to leave it, your first guess is usually correct, he told me, so I'm going to take his advice. Oh, you want to know what Tommy thought? Tommy, well, he's Tommy, he told me it was the way I am and he loved me for it.

Speaking of my boyfriend, guess who just got up and turned in his test front and center. Nice ass through those white jeans, boy. I hide a grin, ducking my head so it appears as if I'm still taking my test…Wondering if he knows that the look of 'I'm the man' is written all over his face, now that he's finished second. Or that's what he thinks, anyway. I watch him out of the corner of my eye as he takes his book out before I return my attention to my test.

It doesn't take long for me to feel the burn of his eyes on my skin. If that boy wants to distract me while I'm trying not to correct myself and not get the wrong answer in turn, he's got to be willing to play with what he's started. I wasn't the Firebird for nothing. 

Let the games begin, Fly Boy…I gnaw on my lip a bit, the taste of my strawberry lip gloss filling my mouth for a moment. My mind starts to wander on its own accord, wishing it was his lips I was tasting right now…And he was the one enjoying my strawberry lip gloss. He's told me how much he likes it time after time…Ok, my mind needs to stop wandering. Trying to return my attention to the question I guess I was trying not to correct, I cross my legs and do just that.

Jesus, Tommy, you trying to burn holes in the skin you claim to love so much?

Or maybe it's just the clothes. Every time I wear white, he has this obsession with staring at me. Don't roll your eyes, I mean more than usual. His eyes are studying the white shirt beneath my pink tank top (okay, I admit, I've had the thing since third grade…It only goes to my ribs. And he knows it). Then they move on to my white skirt. From there…God, the boy's probably getting a boner off of my white shoelaces.

I know he goes crazy when I wear white, it's pretty obvious. Why, I don't exactly know…Though something in me says I should thank the Power, Zordon, Ninjor, Dulcea, Alpha, and many other people or aliens I don't know about, that Tommy doesn't wear pink. That pink is a forbidden color to men, and that he never will wear it in his entire life. Unless I get him that pink thong as a prank for his birthday…Oh yeah, I'm bad.

With that thought in mind, I try to hide my smirk and turn my head to study him for a moment…I could really picture that boy in a thong. The smirk comes out, just a little, as I meet my boyfriend's eyes for a moment. If only he knew the thoughts that were going through my mind right now. Little Kimmie isn't always innocent. He should know that by now, though. He's not likely to forget certain things.

I know I'm driving him crazy, and it is amusing. We always share several physical flirtations in this class, we have since the beginning. They just got more physical as time went on…Damnit, I'm supposed to be correcting-but-not-correcting my work right now. Does that boy see what he's doing to my grades by staring like that? That's it, he's done it…

I tilt my pencil back, starting to tap it against the short white sleeve, and I can feel him staring at that. Deciding to take it further, I move my head to one side, slipping the eraser side of the pencil into the shirt, rubbing as if I have an itch. I know the white bra I'm wearing is showing. Serves him right if he loses his hold on sanity.

Okay, Billy, I know that this one is wrong, and I know the answer, so I'm going to change it and if it's wrong…Blue Boy might become Black and Blue Boy.

He's still staring at me, and I don't want think of where his thoughts are going, so I start to tap one foot against the other. I guess the shoelaces are bouncing again, because he's staring at that. So I continue, and I feel my skirt open just a little.

Glancing at him, I can tell I won. He doesn't even attempt to return my physical flirtations today. O Fearless One might be losing his touch, or he's just too floored. Maybe I should give him that pink thong…Even out the odds a little. Now that thought brings back another big grin as I get up.

Setting my test down on Ms. Applebee's desk, I turn and head back to my seat. He's still staring at me, and I wink before sitting back down.

His eyes are still burning holes into me, and I just know he's cursing my name. He knows I was done with my test before him, and that I was just playing along the entire time. It was fun, but hey…He started it.

He really shouldn't be having those thoughts in class, anyway.

Maybe I should stop wearing white then…

Nah.


End file.
